


To Live My Life How It's Gonna Be

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Businessman Arthur meets Alfred on a subway train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Live My Life How It's Gonna Be

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ May 17, 2011.

Arthur Kirkland meets Alfred F. Jones in the subway. He is in New York for a business trip when, unaccustomed to sudden lurching stops, he stumbles a bit and slams face-first into Alfred’s chest. There is some haphazard sputtering and an attempt to regain some propriety. Unfortunately, the subway is stifling hot and crowded, and there is hardly any elbowroom to move around.   
  
“I beg your pardon,” Arthur mumbles because he is mortified and not sure what else to say.   
  
The other grins back at him. “S’fine,” he says, voice slurring and lilted with a slight accent Arthur cannot quite place, other than that it is American. “No harm done.”   
  
Arthur attempts to move away, but he can’t move at all. It is too crowded, and his cheeks are pink even though he’s telling himself it’s because it is stifling in the underground and for no other reason. Arthur swallows thickly because this man—boy—no, man?—before him is so clearly twenty-something and a college student. He smells like a college student, complete with slightly stale t-shirt smell, and the clinging remains of B.O. that not even Old Spice can cover up.   
  
And the shirt is sinfully tight. Tight over a taut chest (Arthur knows it is taut because it felt like hitting a brick wall when he crashed into him).   
  
Arthur’s hands are sweaty. He grips his briefcase tightly in one hand and lifts his other hand to adjust his tie when, in reality, all he wants to do is tangle his fingers into golden hair.   
  
Arthur, distantly, supposes he is being irrational and ridiculous.   
  
It’s hard to breathe.   
  
After a long moment of Arthur just staring at him, though, the college student seems to realize he is being stared at. And he grins a million-watt smile and wipes his hand on his pants—his hands must be sweaty, too—and pushes it through his hair. And all Arthur can do is stare because his mouth has gone dry and he does not know what to do.   
  
He jerks his eyes away, but he can see him in the reflection of the subway’s window. Fuck.   
  
He swallows a few more times and tries to steady himself. The subway jerks to a stop, some people get on and other people get off.  
  
Speaking of getting off—  
  
Arthur side-eyes the college student. Their eyes lock, and the grin on his face seems to become almost a little devilish.   
  
“My name’s Alfred, by the way.”   
  
And when he lifts his hand again to push at his hair, Arthur catches sight of the way his incredibly-too-tight t-shirt rides up a little, exposing the smallest patch of skin.  
  
Arthur suspects, distantly, that he is doomed. He also suspects, not-so-distantly, that he doesn’t give a fuck.


End file.
